


Sylvix Twitter Assortment

by fancywaffles



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Drabble Collection, Inspired by Twitter, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancywaffles/pseuds/fancywaffles
Summary: A collection of Sylvix snippits I've done on twitter, ratings vary (NSFW will be in the same chapter). This is mostly for archiving/readability purposes. Chapters may be updated within the chapter rather than putting a new chapter up, depending on category.Ratings range from G to E. I'll have any content warnings above the snippet.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	1. German Shepherd Universe

**Author's Note:**

> This came up through a goofy discussion with Fim about Sylvain having a beautiful German Shepherd and a hot neighbor with cats. No plot or calamity ever befalls this universe. Only cuteness.

“No,” Felix said, again.

“Why not?” Sylvain asked, again.

This had to have been at least the fifth time he’d asked. Felix came up with a different excuse every time. Sure, maybe consistently pestering your boyfriend to move in with you wasn’t the most normal relationship route, but nothing about falling in love with Felix had been normal.

Felix frowned, then his gaze flicked to lovely perfect Beatrice, Sylvain’s precious floofy German Shepherd lounging innocently in the sun. “The cats won’t like the dog.”

“She’s an angel!” Sylvain said, defending her honor. Even without saying her name, Beatrice’s ears flicked up and she cracked an eye open from her nap, clearly knowing which ‘she’ and ‘her’ they meant.

“She’s a dog,” Felix said. “And cats and dogs don’t get along.”

“Well that’s not true, you and I—” Sylvain was cut off by Felix’s elbow in his stomach and laughed. Then he realized that this excuse had left him a better opening than any of the others. “All right fine, we’ll introduce them. If your cats don’t like my lovely Beatrice, then I’ll stop asking.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “For how long?”

Sylvain grinned at him and kissed him instead of answering.

*

“So should we get a new place or consolidate into mine?” Sylvain asked, overwhelmingly smug at the sight of Felix’s calico Venin nuzzling into Beatrice’s ear, his orange tabby Levin grooming Beatrice’s arm, and best yet Wo Dao, the black void soot sprite who loved no one, fast asleep on Beatrice’s torso.

“That’s…” Felix started, stopped, huffed out an annoyed breath and then said, “A new place.”

The whooping laugh and Sylvain lifting Felix off his feet in a hug, startled all four of their pets and made Felix smack his shoulder.

* * *

The betrayal occurred on a beautiful Sunday morning. Sylvain was reading Bernie’s latest draft on his kindle and Felix was probably getting sport score updates from his phone. They were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, legs tangled together. Felix’s cats (their cats) Venin and Levin were grooming each other on the cat tree (one of three Sylvain bought) and Wo Dao was staring at birds on the windowsill. Beatrice was chewing on her kong in the corner. It was comfortable, warm, and lovely. Until. It. Isn’t.

Sylvain’s german shepherd, losing interest in her kong, trotted over towards the couch. Sylvain reached out to scratch Beatrice behind her perfect giant velvet ears, but instead of hoisting herself up onto the couch and attempting to become a seventy pound lap dog, she walked right past him and sat next to Felix.

Felix without looking up from his phone, reached out and petted her, until Beatrice was pretty much rubbing her entire head in his hand. (Sylvain couldn’t blame the cats, she’d done that before he’d met the hot neighbor with cats.)

“What the fuck?”

Felix glanced up from his phone, his hand still scratching at the floof of fur behind Beatrice’s jaw. “What?”

“What the fuck!” Sylvain said again, pointing. Beatrice perked up at him, but didn’t move. “What did you do to seduce my dog away from me?”

Felix stared at him and then looked over at Beatrice, who was giving him big sad eyes since he’d stopped petting her for a second. Felix continued and didn’t even look up from her before he responded. “Didn’t you _want_ me to get along with Bea?”

“Bea? Oh now it’s cute nicknames? Fucking ridiculous, her nickname is Trix, Floof, Beaut, and Angel, not _Bea_.”

“Yes,” Felix said dryly, “I’m the one being ridiculous.”

“I’ve raised her since she was a pup!” Sylvain protested. Neither of them were looking at him, although Wo Dao had chirped a meow angrily from her perch. “She’s never gone to you first!”

Felix rolled his eyes, then set his phone down so he could taunt Sylvain by stroking the very tip of Beatrice’s nose up to her forehead, making her golden eyes glaze over in contentment. “She’s a good running buddy,” he said, fondly. “I didn’t like dogs before.”

Sylvain was torn between the complete betrayal of his best girl with his best guy and the utter fondness that overwhelmed him at Felix taking her on runs. He’d done it every morning this month. Clearly that was the deciding factor.

  
“I could run,” Sylvain said, ignoring the sulk in his own voice.

Felix finally looked at him again. With derision. “I’ve asked you since I moved in if you wanted to join my morning run and you have never said yes. I think your exact words were, that I was a freakish weirdo who thrived on pain.”

“I said that as a compliment!” Sylvain protested and then laughed. “I mean, sorta. In the bedroom it’s fine—it’s weird outside.”

With their legs this tangled, Felix’s kick was in a dangerous position, Sylvain grabbed his ankle. “She doesn’t love me anymore,” Sylvain whined. “She’s fallen for your exercise charms.”

“Mm,” was all Felix said as he grabbed his phone again to take a picture of the utterly adorable smile Beatrice had on her face.

That was it. “Beatrice? Baby, come here, bubba, come on!”

Beatrice perked her ears up and stood, then the traitor flicked her gaze back to Felix who waved her on, before she lumbered over to Sylvain and jumped up to lounge the top half of her body on his chest. She licked wetly across his neck and on his jaw, aiming for his face.

“You can keep that part of the relationship strictly to yourself,” Felix said, his phone was still in his hand and Sylvain was fairly certain those pictures were going to be posted later.

“Why do you even like him?” Sylvain asked his angelic dog. She cocked her head sideways in response.

* * *

“Felix!” Sylvain scolded, shocked by the utter lack of sense his boyfriend contained. “You can’t put all the books in the same box!”

Felix stared back at him, a copy of Pan’s Lament still hovering in the air from where he was packing. “Why not? I wrote books on the box.”

“Because then those boxes will weigh six thousand fucking tons,” Sylvain said. 

Felix rolled his eyes and then stood up. He shoved Pan’s Lament into Sylvain’s hand. “Fine you pack your giant goddamn library yourself then.”

“I’m working on the kitchen,” Sylvain said. He didn’t really trust Felix not to shove his kitchenaid in a box without any wrapping and toss a few other utensils in there based on how he was packing things. “Pack up your stuff.”

“I finished that an hour ago,” Felix said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Because I was smart enough to keep the cats in one room.”

“Bea has been _nothing_ but an angel,” Sylvain lied. 

She’d tripped him at least eight times in the last hour alone. Not to mention every time he approached the kitchen she was convinced there were going to be treats (and....she gave him that wide-eyed big pupil expression that meant he _had_ to give her a treat which probably wasn’t helping). She could definitely tell something was up, but as smart as his perfect German Shepherd was, she didn’t seem to understand his pleading that she stay out of his way so they could pack up and move to a place with a yard.

“Mhm,” Felix said skeptically. “I’m sure there are no bruises on your shin from where she tripped you into the counter fifteen minutes ago either.”

“Spying is very untrustworthy,” Sylvain said and turned the book over in his hands. Felix was looking over his shoulder and his lips quirked upwards. When Sylvain glanced behind him, Beatrice was attentively listening, tilting her head in concern as she did whenever their voices raised or they laughed too hard. 

“Why don’t I take her on a run and you micromanage yourself into finishing whatever packing you’re pickiest about?” Felix offered.

Sylvain hated admitting he was wrong, so he didn’t, but it was impossible to turn down that offer--especially since the word ‘run’ had Beatrice smiling like goon. 

“Fine, Beatrice does deserve a treat for being a perfect angel.”

The pat on his shoulder he got as Felix passed him was incredibly patronizing.


	2. Canon/Azure Dawn Continuity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon SFW Sylvix rabbles that are set in my Azure Dawn continuity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potentially vague spoilers for that universe, but in so much as Sylvain and Felix get together/married. I will warn for anything beyond that. Most of these were for SylvixWeek 2020.
> 
> Also some of these, while SFW, have NSFW energy, because... Sylvain.

**Twitter Prompt: Snuggling**

Felix nuzzled his way into the crook of Sylvain’s neck, sleepily moving closer. There was a solid chance he was doing this in his sleep, which Sylvain was going to assume meant that Felix was constantly wanting to get closer to him but was too Felix to do it when he was awake. Sylvain moved slowly to wrap his arms better around Felix and in response, Felix grumbled something and then was practically using Sylvain as a pillow as he threw one leg between Sylvain’s. 

Sylvain fought a smile and held him a little tighter, stroking his hand over the length of Felix’s back to where his sleep shift was crawling up and then dancing his fingers against the skin there until Felix grumbled, “Go to sleep, asshole.” 

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Sylvain said, grinning now.

Felix’s only response was to pull one of Sylvain’s arms more firmly around him.

* * *

**Sylvix Week 2020 Day 3: Injuries/Healing**

CW: mentions of past child abuse, panic attacks

Sylvain felt like he ran around the entire Gautier compound in the winter with a wet shirt. He groaned and rested his head on his knees, coming back into the reality of being in a room in Fraldarius and not deep at the bottom of a well.

Felix was still crouched next to him. Sylvain remembered shrugging him off when he touched his shoulder. What a pathetic move—like he couldn’t figure out a way to make this worse?

“Sorry,” Sylvain muttered into his knees.

“Don’t be,” Felix said. His fingers tentatively touched the back of Sylvain’s neck and when he didn’t react to that, they started stroking through his hair. Fuck that felt good, why had he shrugged Felix off?

His breathing was cantering back to somewhere around normal, but there was still the unfocused sting behind his eyes reminding him of when it wasn’t. Of all the things to freak out about—that one hit? It wasn’t even the worst thing Miklan had ever done to him. Also Miklan was dead. Very dead.

“Did… did something trigger that?” Felix asked, hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” Sylvain said. He didn’t want Felix to stop stroking his hair. His fingers ran through the strands as his knuckles pressed against the back of Sylvain’s skull in soothing repetition.

He couldn’t even think of what the hell happened. He’d been having a normal, very fine day, in fact. Felix’s meeting with Lord Elsyn had gone better than expected and Felix hadn’t kicked him under the table when he put a hand on his thigh.One second he’d been walking with Felix, chatting about the latest local gossip (well, Felix was listening—Sylvain was chatting) and the next second it felt like his chest was collapsing in on itself.

“It’s been a while,” Felix said.

Sylvain nodded into his knees. He almost apologized again but bit back on it. “I think my brain’s broken.”

“All of our brains’ are broken,” Felix retorted. When Sylvain turned his head to see his face, he was frowning. The frown softened as Sylvain looked at him and Felix moved his hand to Sylvain’s jaw. “Are you sure nothing set it off? That incursion in Elsyn a few years into the war was—”

“Wasn’t the war,” Sylvain said, cutting him off. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about what set it off either.

Felix’s frown came back tenfold. “Miklan?”

Sylvain blew out a long breath. “Yeah. I don’t know why I—fuck.” Sylvain sat up completely, shaking his head. “It’s his birthday. How the hell did I both obviously remember and forget that?”

Felix didn’t reply, which was fine, it wasn’t really a question he could answer. It teetered off into uncomfortable silence, because Sylvain really didn’t want to continue the thought. He didn’t want to think about how old his brother would be right now and whether or not he’d have ever changed—whether or not Sylvain would have forgiven him if he had.

Probably he would have.

Maybe that’s why he hyperventilated. He’d forgiven him after being shoved deep into that dark well—only the sound of dripping water and the bucket he couldn’t reach banging against the top for company. The idea of forgiving him now felt oddly tangible. He didn’t miss him, but he missed the idea that they could’ve ever had the chance of something less shitty.

“How’s your head?” Felix asked.

Sylvain shrugged his shoulders. It felt stupid to complain about—it was a headache, a minor annoyance, it wasn’t like he was Dimitri suffering with migraines. Hell Dimitri was the one that should’ve gotten panic attacks out of all of them. Sylvain wasn’t…

Felix’s hand rested on Sylvain’s forehead. A cool trickle of one of the few healing spells he’d actually sat down and learned pressed into the sides of Sylvain’s skull, alleviating the pressure almost immediately.

“Thank you,” Sylvain said, taking Felix’s hand off his head and kissing his palm.

“It’s fine,” Felix said, unaffected by any of it. Sylvain didn’t know how he put up with it. “We should get back to our rooms if you’re up for it.”

Sylvain looked around—he hadn’t registered where they were. A small sitting room, barely enough room for hosting tea. It was unused this time of year and everything was covered in white sterile sheets.

“I’d joke about you carrying me, but I know you’d do it,” Sylvain said with a snort.

“It’s endurance training,” Felix said, only the slightest twitch to his lips indicating he was joking. He stood up first and then helped Sylvain to his feet.

He didn’t… really need the help, but he was still too focused on how he’d shoved off Felix’s touch while he was trying to capture any breath and hide away from everything at the same time. He hated getting like this. So Sylvain took advantage of getting pitied as Felix kept ahold of him, letting him rest his weight on him as they walked.

* * *

**Sylvix Week 2020: Day 6 Confessions**

CW: alcohol/drunkness

Felix had not seen Sylvain this drunk since Dimitri’s stag night—a fact that meant he should have suspected that it might repeat itself at Dedue’s stag night.

“He had trouble with the Boukha,” Dimitri said, far more sober than he had been at Sylvain’s stag night.

“The what?”

“It’s a liquor distilled from figs. I think this batch was stronger. Duscur is still working on the agriculture revival.”

“I don’t need a history lesson,” Felix said, staring at his husband who was closing one eye and pointing out into the distance at nothing. “I just wanted to know what he’ll be throwing up later.”

Dimitri did a bad job at hiding his amusement (he was at least a little drunk) and went back to the festivities, leaving Felix to deal with Sylvain.

As he had at the last drunken debacle, Felix hoisted Sylvain up to standing and took responsibility for the idiot he was in love with—it was much less frustrating _now_ when Sylvain got clingy with him at least.

“You’re are very cute,” Sylvain said, impressively only slurring his words a little.

“Wish I could say the same,” Felix murmured. He almost lost his balance as Sylvain toppled forward, but put a hand on his chest to keep him steady.

“Felix,” Sylvain said, in a very loud whisper. “I need to tell you something.”

Felix hoped if it was that he needed to throw up, he wouldn’t leave him in suspense so Felix could avoid getting that on his shoes. “What do you need to tell me?”

Sylvain stopped their walk on shaky feet and used the arm that was around Felix’s shoulder to pull him into a hug. “I love you.”

Felix had his chin on Sylvain’s shoulder, so no one could see him, but he still automatically fought the impulse to smile. “I knew that already.”

“I wasn’t done.”

Sylvain hugged him tighter and Felix sighed, patting him on the back and scanning the area for somewhere to sit since it seemed like it was going to take a minute to get him focused on walking again.

There was a small bench that must have been there before the… not war, since that wasn’t accurate, but before the Regent-lead ransacking—it was carved out of stone and overgrown with weeds. Little yellow flowers crawled up the sides of it. With some difficultly he got Sylvain to stop smothering him and sat them both down on the bench.

Sylvain immediately got into his personal space again, throwing a leg over his own and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, throwing himself forward like he was covering Felix in a Sylvain blanket. “We’re married,” he said.

Felix wasn’t able to stop the smile this time. “I knew that too. I was there.”

“You looked so good,” Sylvain said, shoving his nose into Felix’s chest. “You always look good. I love your hair. And you’re so strong. Your ass too.” Sylvain looked up at him, with earnest tear-filled eyes. “You have my favorite ass.”

Felix could only stare at him, lips pinching into what he wasn’t sure wanted to be an up or downwards state. It was insane that there was an even less filtered version of Sylvain that existed.

“Legs,” Sylvain said, then flopped downwards so that he was awkwardly resting his upper body on Felix’s lap, while his leg was still slung over his knee. “They’re great too. Strong but you know, it’s okay if you wanna let yourself go. I let myself go.”

“You did not,” Felix said. He unconsciously brushed the hair out of Sylvain’s face. “You _could_ train more, but you’re still… irritatingly handsome.”

Even right now, drunk, smelling of sweat and whatever spiced foods they’d been eating, and contorted into a pretzel with a stupid smile on his face, Sylvain was unbearably good looking.

“I like holding your hand,” Sylvain said. “Can I hold your hand tomorrow?”

“You can hold my hand now,” Felix said, and Sylvain immediately went for it, as if Felix didn’t already always let him do that.

“Your fingers—Felix, they’re so good, I love your fingers.”

“Fucking hell,” Felix pressed his knuckles to the bridge of his nose. If Sylvain started in on trying to convince him to fuck on an outdoor Duscurian bench while obviously too drunk to do it right, Felix was going to shove him off of it.

It was even worse than that.

“You hold a pen like a sword, and you get a little furrowed brow when you’re writing something,” Sylvain said. “And you always sweep your fingers over the seal and pat it down. You do it every time and Felix it’s so cute—I can’t stand it.”

“Shut up,” Felix huffed. Why was he the one who was embarrassed right now?

“You said I could finish,” Sylvain whined.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You didn’t tell me I couldn’t,” Sylvain said, sticking his lower lip out in a ridiculous pout. “That’s the same thing.”

Felix let out an annoyed sigh and gestured for Sylvain to continue with his free hand. His other hand was currently being petted and squeezed in intervals as Sylvain threaded and unthreaded their joined fingers.

“You love me,” Sylvain said.

“I also knew that,” Felix said, fondness creeping back in over embarrassment.

“You loved me forever,” Sylvain said. “Forever!” He said again. “And that’s crazy.” Before Felix could tell him off for being self-deprecating, Sylvain grabbed his jacket with his free hand. “Felix! You’re so good at sex now. It’s awful. I keep thinking about how we could’ve been having sex and kissing forever and it’s the worst.”

Felix frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I was better at it,” Sylvain said, patting the spot he’d previously been gripping on Felix’s chest. “Now you are… it’s the best sex I have never had and I think about the poor bastard me from years ago who didn’t get to have that.”

Felix shifted a little on the bench and tried getting Sylvain in a less folded position and more comfortable—Sylvain assumed he was getting shoved off and retaliated by wrapping his arms around Felix’s waist in a vice grip.

“We have a room you know,” Felix said, fondness winning out over annoyance as he at least straightened Sylvain’s legs for him, before resting his hand on the back of his head.

“We’re gonna have sex in it,” Sylvain said, sulking for some reason.

“We already had sex in it,” Felix said. Ever since their honeymoon, Sylvain thought it was funny to claim they needed to consummate their vows in every new room they stayed at.

“I’m too drunk to have sex,” Sylvain said, morosely. “You’re better at sex than me—what if you find someone else who isn’t as irritating and then I gotta deal with never getting laid again and! We won’t be married anymore.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Felix muttered and started stroking his hair, scratching his fingers behind Sylvain’s ears in an effort to calm him down. “You’re still very good at it and even if your dick dropped off, we’d still be married.”

“What if also my tongue and hands fell off?” Sylvain asked, too earnestly.

“A tragedy, but not grounds for divorce,” Felix said. The stroking seemed to be working, because Sylvain made a piteously weak sounding noise as he yawned and then curled farther into Felix’s abdomen.

In less than three minutes he was snoring and Felix sighed and decided to let him sleep a little of it off. After all, he _did_ love the idiot.

* * *

**Sylvix Week Day 7: Married/Domestic Life**

Sylvain didn’t notice when Felix had come into the room. He’d been too focused on the papers in front of him. Felix’s hand on his shoulder finally drew his attention and the bubble he’d be in popped as his husband spoke.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Felix said.

“Then why are you up?” Sylvain asked, grabbing Felix’s hand from his shoulder and kissing the ends of his fingers to get rid of that face Felix made. “Sorry, I got caught up—I had an epiphany about some of that land off the Itha Plains and I was trying to finish drafting this proposal before it got away from me.”

Felix glanced over at the paper. Sylvain noticed that the candle had burned down a lot more than he’d thought it was. He missed dinner. Sometimes he got so fixated on something he was compelled as if by magic to finish it and everything else went away.

Felix drew his eyes from the paper back to Sylvain and touched the side of his face, smoothing his palm over the beard Sylvain still hadn’t shaved (he shallowly enjoyed the marks it made on Felix and it was less work to trim it than to fully shave it off).

“What’s your idea?”

Sylvain leaned back in his chair and pushed up the glasses that were sliding off his nose. It was so much easier to read at night with them. “So, there’s a whole stretch of it that hasn’t been used for hunting territory in years and I was thinking—if we put in some wind-breaks and set up a farming cohort it would be the perfect place for cattle. Plus, if we set up the cohort, the farmers who were petitioning the court because of that drought would have a new place to set up—wouldn’t have to be permanent of course, but it’d be good to have experts to get it started. I have—”

Sylvain found it impossible to finish his ramble with Felix suddenly on his lap and pressing his lips against his own. Probably was tired of him talking, but Sylvain liked this method better than telling him to shut up so he wasn’t going to complain. He didn’t really do much other than let Felix kiss him, a little more forcefully than Sylvain would expect for getting him to shut up and—oh wait no, now he was also dragging his hands into Sylvain’s shirt.

“Can you tell me what triggered this so I can do it again?” Sylvain said, muffled into Felix’s shoulder as he writhed on his lap.

A mistake, because then Felix _stopped_ and pulled back, staring at Sylvain in surprise like he didn’t know how he’d gotten up there. “…do you need to finish tonight?”

“Not _now_ ,” Sylvain said and lifted them both out of the chair, so they could take this to their bedroom.

It happened at least four more times before Sylvain figured it out. He would be working on something, one time a correspondence with the Sreng ambassador (who still would not let him call them that), another time when he'd finished the proposal for Dimitri about the Itha lands, twice after meeting with some minor lords about what was going on in their territories, and finally when he was helping the newest Duke Gerth with some trade route issues that were frazzling him.

“You’re getting hot and heavy for me not slacking off, aren’t you?” Sylvain asked, watching Felix try to sort his clothes out after he’d shoved Sylvain into a closet for a mid-afternoon delight.

Felix pursed his lips and then incorrectly tucked the wrong layer back into his pants. “…no.”

Sylvain snorted and helped Felix with his clothes, unable to keep from skimming his fingers over the bare skin at Felix’s sides when they got the layers of shirts out again. “You haven’t improved even remotely at lying.”

“I’m not lying,” Felix said with an annoyed huff. “You’re… it’s… fuck—”

Sylvain laughed. “We did and I’d be happy to go again if you give me a few minutes.” He enjoyed Felix’s glare far too much, as he did the way he failed at getting all the strands of his hair back in his tie. Then Sylvain remembered what he’d been on his way to do when Felix had assaulted him. “We’d have to make it quick, because I still have to meet with Cara about the granary improvements she wants to make.”

Felix very much looked like he wanted to jump him again, even after the hassle of getting his clothes together. And the neck crick from doing it in a closet.

“You know,” Sylvain said, “if I’d known this was a turn-on I’d have been less of a fuckup ages ago.”

“It’s not that!” Felix said and then huffed again. “You’re—I don’t know. It’s…” He bit his lower lip hard enough that it looked painful.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Sylvain said, and undid Felix’s hair so he could run his fingers through it before he helped him by putting it back up again. Frazzled Felix was rare and rarer the longer they were married and Sylvain was luxuriating in it. “Although it might distract me from actually doing things if you’re always trying to do me—not complaining,” he added quickly.

Felix wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at Sylvain’s collar and had his hands resting on Sylvain’s chest. “You’re doing something you like doing and doing it well.”

“Oh,” Sylvain said, feeling a little frazzled himself, before jumping on the easy opportunity Felix gave him. “I like doing you and I think I do it pretty—ow—” Sylvain cut off with a laugh when Felix stepped on his foot. “Was I that bad before?”

“No,” Felix said, this time not sounding like he was lying. He looked up at Sylvain and his mouth twisted. “I might not _hate_ the beard either.”

“Romantic poetry to soothe my soul,” Sylvain said, but he was actually warmed by Felix having that much… interest in him succeeding. Maybe Felix was turned on by that, but Sylvain was turned on by the fact that Felix cared and believed in him that much.

Speaking of which. “Well, now I’m ready to go again.”

Felix muttered something under his breath, but instead of leaving in a huff, he dragged Sylvain down by his ears to kiss him and let Sylvain mess up his clothes again.

* * *


	3. NSFW Sylvix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The horny dumping ground. A mix of canon/modern AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will note at the top of each section what it is from and content warnings. There is a mix of cis and trans Felix in these.

**Azure Dawn Continuity - Post Barnacle**

Sylvain was having… a problem. The crux of the matter was that now he could touch Felix whenever he wanted. There was no carefully calculating if this wasn’t the right time to sling an arm over his best friend’s shoulder. Or any particular stab wound that might occur if he gave into the impulse to take Felix’s hair out of its tie and run his fingers through it. The problem was that now that he could touch Felix, touching Felix was all he thought about.

It had started off innocently enough, brushing his fingers against Felix’s during a council meeting, resting his arm over the back of the couch when Felix was sitting next to him, touching his thigh to Felix’s while they ate in the dining hall. It was, however, escalating.

Felix letting him re-tie his hair in the training yard, letting Sylvain linger and rub his thumbs against the base of his neck. Sylvain putting his hand on Felix’s leg while they were having tea with Ingrid or Dimitri or the Professor, or generally anyone and any time he could get his hand on Felix’s leg.

If Felix was tired enough, he’d even instigate it himself, leaning back against Sylvain’s chest and sinking into Sylvain’s arms that automatically found their way around him.

The problem, the real problem, was that Sylvain knew there was a hard line. The problem was that he hadn’t found it yet. And the problem was that Sylvain really really wanted to touch Felix’s ass. He wanted to slip his hand into Felix’s pocket while they were walking. He wanted to rest his entire palm on it when Felix was standing next to him. He wanted to drag him to sit it on Sylvain’s lap. (He also really wanted to slap it as he passed Felix, but he knew that was going to annoy Felix enough to limit private touching so not worth the risk.)

Sylvain had become so focused on Felix’s backside that he didn’t realize he was staring contemplatively at it until Dimitri cleared his throat and said, “Could you refrain from objectifying Felix while we’re speaking to the Dagdan Ambassador?”

Felix, apparently, _had not_ noticed, because he looked up at Sylvain with a frown. 

“No?” Sylvain said, getting the patented tired kingly sigh as Dimitri walked off.

“What was he talking about?” Felix asked.

“Are those new boots?” Sylvain asked, diverting Felix’s direction, or attempting to, Felix merely narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him. Sylvain took the risk and put a thumb through Felix’s belt loop, tugging him a little closer.

Felix looked annoyed, but didn’t push him off or tell him off, which was really way too much blanket permission. Sylvain was starting to feel like Felix also wanted him to touch his ass in public.

Sylvain resisted, however, for the moment, because he didn’t want his wandering hands ruining diplomatic ties.

The sun was setting by the time Sylvain’s impulse control expired. Felix was watching a few of the Dadgan envoys train, making that unbearably cute concentration face, where his brow crinkled. Sylvain stood beside Felix for a moment and then rested his hand on his ass. Felix glanced back at him, barely acknowledging it, and then turned back to the fight.

Sylvain’s hand could pretty much encompass an entire cheek. One of his favorite things to do (in private) was grip both of them as he dragged Felix off his feet. So he squeezed a little, feeling the muscles tense under his fingers as Felix let out a sharp huffed breath.

Sylvain squeezed again and then Felix grunted and looked back at him again. “I’m trying to observe their technique.”

“No one’s stopping you,” Sylvain replied and moved his hand to the other cheek, giving it a short squeeze as he grinned.

Felix’s face was red enough to see even in the dimming evening light and he turned back around, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t stop Sylvain from feeling him up over his pants during the rest of the bout. Sylvain’s hand traveled up and down the underside of Felix’s ass, touching his thighs one at a time and then back again, tapping his fingertips against the top of each cheek, and generally fondling any area he could get away with.

When the match was over, Felix’s face was still flushed, and he made an offhand comment about their fighting styles and offered to spar with them in the morning, all the while Sylvain’s hand rested unseen behind him.

“I’m guessing you can’t wait until after dinner,” Felix said, under his breath once he’d finished that conversation.

Sylvain hadn’t particularly had any goal in mind, he’d just really wanted to touch Felix, but he wasn’t going to turn down the invitation to touch him more in private. “I can, I don’t want to.”

“Fine,” Felix said and stomped off in the direction of their rooms. Sylvain walked in step behind him, enjoying the view.

* * *

**Azure Dawn Continuity - Pre-Reciprocation**

Notes: Based on me learning what the "insatiable" was in the JP version of the game.

“Uh… Felix?” Sylvain asked. “Are you okay?”

Felix was staring up at the ceiling, with a look on his face that Sylvain really didn’t want to see post-first-bedroom coitus (the thing in the training yard was a warmup). He’d seemed to be enjoying himself prior to becoming a puddle of limp limbs.

After long enough for Sylvain to start to get worried, Felix said, “You are a sex demon.”

Sylvain’s grin split his face. “You know, I’ve been told that before.” Specifically by Felix. In a much less exhausted, less awe-filled voice.

“I revoke my previous apology.”

“Does that mean you want me to tempt you into some more?” Sylvain asked, leaning over Felix and sliding a hand down the long length of his torso.

Felix shut his eyes and said, like it pained him, “Yes.”  
  


* * *

**Azure Dawn Continuity - Post-Barnacle**

CW: Exhibitionism

“Hey,” Sylvain said to the Viscount, “if you have a way to magically change the route of the Armid river to _not_ be right next to Ordelia, then you’re welcome to— _shhhhhgkk_ .” That was a hand. That was a hand not his own on his leg and because it was Felix’s hand Sylvain’s dick was already standing to attention. In the middle of a _very important_ meeting as Sylvain was constantly lectured when he made jokes about skipping. 

Sylvain waved off the concern of one of the lords, which was probably fake anyway. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, got something in my throat. Allergies. That or I’m really getting choked up about new trade borders.” He managed a laugh that didn’t sound fake and _somehow_ found the ability to breathe through Felix’s fingers going from strumming against the inside of his thighs to tracing the outline of his dick which was starting to strain against his trousers.

Sylvain let the next couple of pointless comments fly over his head as he glanced at Felix, who looked boredly on as if he were paying attention, and not unlacing Sylvain’s trousers. The smart responsible thing would’ve been to close his legs and move Felix off so they could continue the meeting.

Sylvain spread his legs a little wider, pleased by the barely visible lift on the corner of Felix’s mouth. By the time the conversation had rerouted to something Sylvain could comment on, Felix was thumbing over Sylvain’s foreskin, rolling it back and forth and actually killing him. 

Sylvain cleared his throat again, leaned forward, and peppered in as much commentary as he could handle while Felix continued like his hand wasn’t completely molesting his dick under the table. He was managing admirably, he thought, until mid-bloviating speech of Lord Grigori Felix added fondling his balls into the mix. 

Sylvain slammed his fist on the conference table, drawing all of their eyes to them. Including Felix, who was still completely straight faced like he wasn’t _still doing it_ under the table. 

“I uh, I agree,” Sylvain said, clenching the fist he’d just slammed tightly as Felix pinched the connecting skin so lightly before continuing his mauling exploration of Sylvain’s dick. “That land is absolutely oversown. I mean you should hear Count Galatea talk about the farming techniques.”

They bought that— _thank the Goddess_ —and this time when their attention wavered from him, Sylvain made the executive decision to lean back in his chair and cover his mouth with his hand. It hopefully looked like a thoughtful expression and not biting his teeth down as Felix pumped down on his dick like polishing one of his swords.

Sylvain came, breathing hard and leaving teeth imprints into his own hand, while trying to thoughtfully nod to the point whoever the fuck was making that wasn’t important in the scheme of Felix’s hand, still milking him dry. 

Felix at least had the manners to put him back into his pants, even if he patted Sylvain’s trouser like ‘well done’ in a way that made Sylvain a little too turned on for how soon after he’d climaxed.

* * *

**Azure Dawn Continuity - Post-Fell Star, Ashen Heart**

It was not as if Sylvain did not know he’d married a competitive asshole. He just hadn’t realized the extent, because he rarely had to compete with him. Utterly, incomprehensibly, _immoral_ that on the day of the Gautier-Fraldarius negotiations, Felix put his fucking hair up.

It wasn’t only that he put it up. It was that he did it _during the meeting_. Sylvain was mid-rebuttal (because he was so much better at talking these things out than Felix) and then Felix had unwound his hair from where it was pinned to the side and then gathered it with his long, beautiful fingers, before tying it up high enough on his head that not only were his perfect sharp cheekbones emphasized, but the smooth plane of his neck was also perfectly visible.

Sylvain stumbled over his speech. He barely recovered before they called for a break.

He might have thought Felix hadn’t done it on purpose, but the smug look on his face when they called for break gave Sylvain absolutely no compunction against grabbing Felix and dragging him to the nearest empty room.

“Dishonorable tactics and you know it,” Sylvain said, as he hoisted Felix up and then slammed into the nearest wall.

Felix shrugged one shoulder as he wrapped his legs around Sylvain. “I don’t know what you’re speaking of, Lord Gautier.”

Fuck, he looked good like that. Sylvain only had one shot at making the rest of the negotiations work. He waited until Felix was distracted and grinding down on him, one leg resting somewhere near Sylvain’s shoulder (which was making it hard to plot nefariously). Then Sylvain tugged on the high ponytail and marked up every single inch of Felix’s neck—also useful in helping speed things along, because they had a short break and Sylvain was also having trouble not bursting on the first thrust.

Felix wasn’t wearing a turtleneck today so he had to cover his neck with his hair if he didn’t want it extremely obvious what they’d been doing. He glared at Sylvain as he took his hair down.

* * *

**Missing scenes from: I told that devil to take you back**

_Directly following the shirt scene:_

Sylvain was never getting his flannel shirt back. Felix made this decision somewhere between feeling the wide expanse of Sylvain’s palms ( _why_ were his hands so big?) slide up his thighs and squeeze his ass and the completely obscene way Sylvain had decided to show his appreciation of Felix’s random morning clothes choice.

The thick stretch of Sylvain’s cock deep inside as he thrust forward in grinding little movements made Felix’s toes curl. He’d been tempted by demons before, plenty of times, but none of them had looked like Sylvain, or been able to angle their hips and drive forward moving Felix up the bed.

If they had, Felix was pretty sure he’d be soulless or possessed by now.

“You sound so good,” Sylvain said, breathy and stuttered against Felix’s neck as he continued to pivot between angled, deep, verging on the edge of painful thrusts, and those small shifts of his hips that made it hard to breathe.

“Fuck,” Felix said. He’d never been very articulate during sex—it was hard to dirty talk when Sylvain never shut up and Felix’s brain had no blood flowing through it. Instead he groaned and dug his fingers into Sylvain’s shoulders on a particularly good angle.

Sylvain did it again, because he was a bastard. “Fuck,” Felix said again and then, “Syl _vain.”_

Felix was doubtful any other words were coherent. Or at least Felix’s words. Sylvain whispered an indecent litany of all of the things he wanted to do to Felix wearing only his clothes. It was too much, because it was always too much—it had been too much the first time and it had been too much last night. Felix threw his head back and moved his own hips up so that he could be flooded and fucking drown in the feeling of Sylvain.

_ Directly following the learning to drive scene: _

Felix avoided the seatbelt buckle as he ground down onto Sylvain’s thighs. He ignored the chuckle as Sylvain kissed his neck. He’d done it on purpose. He had to have done it on purpose.

“We’re not done,” Felix murmured, trying to hold his breath against the feel of Sylvain’s hands painting patterns up and down the bare skin under his shirt.

“Very aware of that, sweetheart,” Sylvain said—it vibrated against Felix’s neck.

“With the driving lesson,” Felix said. It was a little easier to push back the awkwardness when he was already in Sylvain’s lap having his ass squeezed.

“Mmm how so?” Sylvain asked, his thumbs coming to casual rest on the curve of Felix’s spine sending little pinpricks of pressure up the length of it.

Felix wriggled a little and ignored his automatic embarrassment. “Keep telling me what to do and showing me where to go.”

There was a very long silence in the car and then Sylvain breathed out. He put one hand on the back of Felix’s thigh and the other at the base of his spine. “Come closer,” Sylvain said, in the same voice he’d told him how to switch gears in. Breathy and firm.

Felix hated how much it turned him on, but the shiver that ran through him as he let Sylvain position him, flush on his lap, the press of Sylvain’s dick pushing through too many layers of clothing. “Put your hands on my chest,” Sylvain said, and drew one of Felix’s hands forward, kissing his wrist before placing it on Sylvain’s pecs. “Roll your hips like I told you to roll your foot on the accelerator.”

Felix seemed to get better feedback from this than the driving lesson, because Sylvain groaned and swore as Felix followed directions and rolled his hips, already flush with Sylvain’s, so that his entire front dragged in sweet friction against Sylvain.

“Fuck,” one of them muttered.

* * *

**Canon, Dancer Sylvain**

Based on this [amazing piece](https://twitter.com/aimlessknight/status/1316529075255758849) by Lora

The thing was, Sylvain had been _kidding_. The last battle had been exhausting and it was literally his job to put a little giddy-up in their hitch. So when he’d leaned towards Felix and said, “Hey baby, want me to revitalize you before we head out?” he’d expected an eye-roll and being ignored.

Sylvain did not expect to be hoisted up onto a supply crate, with his dancer’s skirt hiked up, while Felix took him up on the offer. “I want you to know, this is not a dance I offer to everyone,” Sylvain breathed, heart pounding to the same rhythm as his hips were meeting Felix’s own.

“It better not be,” Felix grunted, dragging out the next thrust so slowly that Sylvain clenched around him and grabbed at his hips to try and get him closer again. Felix only huffed a laugh in response.

“Ah, I have no— _shit_ , _Felix_ —no issue making this a pre-battle tradition for you, however,” Sylvain said, raggedly into Felix’s shoulder.

Felix hummed a non-specific response, dragging his gloved hand up the bare skin of Sylvain’s legs (how had he not suggested this _earlier_?). His amber eyes met Sylvain’s and he cupped the side of his face with his free hand before kissing him, softly and full of feeling.

Sylvain was so glad this dancer’s costume was dark enough to hide stains.

* * *

**Canon, Not Allowed to Touch**

CW: Restraints

Sylvain jerked his wrists against the thick-wound rope tying him to the bedpost. This had seemed so much more fun when he’d agreed to it. “Felix, _please_.”

“No,” Felix said, making Sylvain _watch_ as he touched himself. How was this fair? Sylvain wanted to be those fingers currently dipping through wet folds—fucking hell Felix was wet enough he could hear the squelching.

“ _Felix, please_ ,” Sylvain whined. He wondered if he could magic off the rope. Would that burn the building down? Did he care? He wasn’t sure he cared.

“You really can’t take what you dish out,” Felix said, smiling like a predator cat who was playing with his food—why was that so hot? Why was everything so hot? Why did Sylvain _agree_ to this?

“I’m pathetic,” Sylvain agreed. “Terrible. Hypocritical. A lout some would say— _fucking_ HELL.” Felix was now biting his lip, closing his eyes and riding his own fingers. This was death. Sylvain was going to die. “Felix, please for Seiros and the Goddess Star above let me touch you.”

Felix ignored him for a solid twenty-three seconds and then cracked an eye open to take in Sylvain’s utterly pathetic state. Sylvain tried pulling out all the stops and throwing every sad-eyed begging plea into his face.

“No,” Felix said, because he was cruel. Sylvain was in love with the meanest person in the universe, why was he like this? Then Felix moved forward so that finally skin was touching Sylvain’s, even if it was leg skin—his legs were lonely it was fine. And Felix pitched himself up by Sylvain’s hips and barely, _barely_ enfolded Sylvain’s so stiff-it-might-fall-off dick so that only a hint of feeling and that moist perfection made its way onto it.

“This is the worst day of my entire life,” Sylvain said, actual tears gathering at his eyes. Felix had the audacity to laugh at him.

* * *

**Canon, Outdoor Sex**

CW: Academy Era

“We’re going to get caught,” Felix hissed, still helping Sylvain unbuckle his belt like a pro.

Sylvain took the opportunity of having his hands free to yank Felix’s pants down his thighs. The small startled gasp Felix let out as the cold hair hit the back of his legs went straight to Sylvain’s dick. “Who is going to come to the gazebo at this time of night?”

“People sneaking in from town,” Felix said, bitingly.

“Yes, but I’m _here_ ,” Sylvain said, and smothered the automatic laugh at Felix’s dimly lit glare, by pressing his teeth to Felix’s neck. Now that his thighs were bared it was easier for Sylvain to wrap a hand around each to drag Felix closer. If he could only convince him to take off his pants entirely, they could have already gotten somewhere, but they had to be _creative_ since Felix was paranoid.

Sylvain let Felix’s legs go, practically devouring the grunt of displeasure that left Felix’s mouth immediately after. Unfortunately, Felix responded to that by biting into Sylvain’s mouth and grabbing at his shoulders, which did not help what Sylvain let go of in the first place. “Hold on,” he murmured between kisses.

“No,” Felix said, flustered and irritated—the perfect combination really.

Sylvain kissed him a little deeper, angling it just right and pressing on that spot right at the base of Felix’s neck that made him go limp. Then he let go so that Felix’s back was supported by the gazebo pillar and had his arms free.

“What the hell, Sylvain—” Felix cut off as Sylvain shrugged his jacket off and then tossed it onto the ground like the world’s smallest most uncomfortable blanket. “Oh.”

Sylvain immediately got his hands back on Felix, moving up from his thighs to palm at his ass. “See, if you’d be less combative we could’ve been fucking by now. If we do get caught it’s because you’re difficult.”

Felix punched him in the shoulder and probably would’ve had something biting to say if he could do it quietly, but they both knew he couldn’t. “You’re on top then, so if we do get caught, the delinquent is on display.”

Sylvain waited until Felix was settled on top of his jacket, legs about as wide as they could go considering his pants were down by his knees, to crawl over him and smugly lean in to whisper in his ear. “We’re both delinquents—you mean mastermind.”

“You’re so stupid,” Felix said, but he dragged Sylvain down into a kiss, so it was a mixed message.

“Those dancer lessons sure are paying off,” Sylvain murmured once he’d gotten Felix’s thighs pressed against his stomach and his ankles practically on Sylvain’s shoulders.

“Shut. Up,” Felix said, remarkably annoyed sounding all things considered.

Sylvain felt like giving him this one, mostly because he didn’t _actually_ want to get caught. Although, for as much as Sylvain couldn’t help running his mouth, it was Felix who kept letting not-so-hushed moans escape, up through the point that Sylvain had to put his hand over Felix’s mouth.

Felix stared up at him, eyes glinting molten lava in the moonlight, and _clenched_ around Sylvain. “Holy fucking shit,” Sylvain said before snapping his mouth shut in time with his hips.

* * *

**Canon, Baths Sex**

CW: Academy Era

“Ugh,” Felix said, shoving Sylvain aside. “You smell like the inside of a demonic beast. Go clean up.”

For some reason Sylvain grinned at that. “Sure thing, care to join?”

Felix felt the back of his neck and the sweat drenched hair at the base of his skull. He wasn’t seeping in sweat so hard his shirt was covered in wet patches like Sylvain was, but that had been a particularly intense training session and it _was_ much warmer in Garreg Mach than it was in Faerghus.

“Fine,” he said, somehow Sylvain’s grin got wider.

Felix went straight for the buckets in the baths, but Sylvain hooked an arm around his waist and turned him back around—stalling him and untucking Felix’s shirt from his pants. Felix didn't know he could feel warmer, but suddenly the moist air around them felt cloying. He stopped Sylvain's hands while they tugged the fabric up past his ribcage. “ _What_ are you doing?”

“Helping you clean up,” Sylvain said, like it was obvious.

“The direction you’re headed is not going to get either of us clean.”

He hadn’t even _meant_ that—although it was difficult to think of a way out of it now that it was in front of him. There wasn’t anyone around and the added moisture of the baths had soaked Sylvain’s shirt so badly, Felix could see the outline of his pecs and nipples through the thinned fabric.

“I am a man of virtue,” Sylvain somehow said with a straight face, while his fingertips danced along Felix’s ribcage flirting with lifting the fabric of Felix’s top more. “You can’t reach your back, Felix. Let me be a friend.”

Felix pushed Sylvain’s hands off him and tried not to enjoy the stupid pout he made before tugging his own shirt off and tossing it aside. He headed towards the water buckets, turning on one of the taps and pressing his hand to the enchantment that made the water warmer. Felix felt Sylvain’s eyes on him as he brought the filled bucket to one of the benches and finished undressing. There was no one else in the baths and so he could hear Sylvain’s quickened breath between the water running and steam building, while Felix soaped up.

Felix finally shot a look over his shoulder. Sylvain was still dressed like an idiot. “I thought you were going to help me with my back?”

Felix watched Sylvain’s eyebrows raise with his lips and then undress with a speed he never had in sparring. The soap was in Sylvain’s hands in moments and then Felix felt the skim of it and Sylvain’s fingers tracing a pattern down his spine. He ignored the impulse to immediately turn around and closed his eyes against the kind of finesse and detailed work Sylvain did with his fingers (something he also didn’t use in sparring).

Felix wasn’t sure when he lost patience with it, but he turned around and vaguely registered the bucket of soapy water falling to the floor as he climbed onto Sylvain’s lap. He ran soapy fingers through Sylvain’s hair and kissed him.

Soap covered hands gripped between them, tangling their fingers together as they jerked each other off. Felix ground down at the same time, drawing out groaning swears and generic endearments from Sylvain.

“If I die from heatstroke I think I’ll make my peace with it,” Sylvain said into Felix’s neck as he used one hand to slip around Felix and steady him by his hips.

“I won’t,” Felix muttered, trying to smother his own gasped, embarrassing noises into the space underneath Sylvain’s chin.

“Aww, Felix,” Sylvain said, saccharine and almost sincere.

Felix bit him in retaliation and then Sylvain used the hand on his hip to raise him up higher. It was hard not to feel overheated now as the warmth rose from his toes to his stomach and made him want too many things to actually name.Sylvain tightened his fingers wrapped around them both and used the slide of the soap to pull off enough to cause another mess.

Felix breathed hard, resting his forehead against Sylvain’s and was unable to keep from kissing him again, because once he started (even after they’d ‘cleaned up’), it was hard to stop. Then a noise from the anterior of the baths caused them both to jolt upwards and scramble to slide apart on the bench and pick up the water again.

Felix was scrubbing his skin a little too hard by the time one of the other students came in. They completely ignored Sylvain and Felix and went for one of the other buckets to fill up. Sylvain was perfectly calm, as if they hadn’t just rutted off on each other, and called out to Caspar. “Hey, can you set the water cold when you’re done?”

“Yeah,” Caspar said. “No problem.” He snorted. “Probably too hot for you guys, right?”

“Something like that,” Sylvain said, staring at Felix with a smile that made Felix want to hit him with the bucket. He finished cleaning up as quickly as possible and did not think about the fact that Sylvain was not far behind.

* * *


	4. Alternate Universes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The SFW dumping ground for anything Modern or otherwise AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings noted at the top of each section. The Modern AU ones may live in a generic portion of my brain where a non-GSDverse lives in the Sylvix multiverse.

**Sylvix Week 2020 Day 4: Video Games & Tabletop AU**

Not for the first time, Felix was having second thoughts about moving in with Sylvain this year. Sylvain’s bag flew over the side of the couch and then landed with a solid thud on the floor.

“I hate D&D!” Sylvain said, and then walked into their bedroom and slammed the door.

Felix stared at his kinesiology assignment and weighed working on it over figuring out what the hell happened with his boyfriend. Sylvain won out and he closed his laptop before heading to their room.

Sylvain was dramatically flounced on the bed, his head nestled into one of the pillows, sulking while he scrolled on his phone. 

“Nerd convention didn’t work out?” Felix asked.

“Don’t mock my pain,” Sylvain said. Then he lifted his head and assessed Felix in a way that he was sure he wasn’t going to like. “You don’t have anything next Friday, right?”

“Why?” Felix asked, warily.

“Because I’ve spent the last six months carefully orchestrating and plotting the perfect campaign and our fucking rogue dropped out.”

Felix tried to parse any of those words as coherent, but failed. “What?”

Sylvain, spirits lifted, sat up. “I’ll build your entire character sheet! You can have a sword. Two swords. Six swords! I’ll even get you up to the level the party is at.”

“I’m not joining your D&D game,” Felix said. He wasn’t even entirely sure he knew what the fuck it even stood for.

“Please,” Sylvain begged. He looked pathetic on his knees like that on the bed, pouting still. “At least until the campaign ends. It’ll be like three weeks, tops!”

“Urrgghh,” Felix said.

Sylvain annoyingly interpreted that as an agreement.

*

It was longer than three weeks, but Felix didn’t hate it. The swashbuckling rogue character Sylvain made him had interesting stats and it seemed like half group approached things as a role-play exercise (Dorothea, their Glamour bard and Ferdinand, their Paladin) and the other half liked figuring out the puzzles (Lysithea, their Great Old One warlock and Ashe, their Life Cleric). (Mercedes, their Berserker Barbarian seemed to be a wildcard.)

Felix mostly dicked around on his phone until a fight broke out (usually caused by Ferdinand rolling really badly on his deception or persuasion checks). Then he listened while Sylvain started descriptions of all the fighters in their area, really getting into it with hand gestures and dramatic tension. He did different voices for the Goblins, Fiends, and Fey they ended up bargaining or fighting with.

“We’re going into a time skip this Friday,” Sylvain said, absently like it was no big deal, later when Felix was attempting to watch an MMA fight.

“In the game, right?” Felix asked.

“Yeah,” Sylvain said. “And… I mean I could find someone else to tap in, if you wanted to—you know stop.”

“Let me think about it,” Felix said.

Sylvain nodded, a little too enthusiastically.

*

“I want to build my own character,” Felix said. “Do I have to be a rogue?”

“No,” Sylvain said, smiling. “We’re all picking new characters, you can be whatever you want? You want me to help you build it?”

  
“No,” Felix said. “The website works.” He sighed as he saw Sylvain’s smile slip. “But, I guess if you wanted to help, it wouldn’t kill me.”

“You’re so romantic,” Sylvain said, cheerfully. He kissed Felix’s cheek as they made their way to the computer.

*

Felix made a Monk, which was apparently a _controversial_ choice or whatever, but he had fun building them up and keeping track of the different Ki points. He didn’t mind the role-play part, he actually enjoyed watching everyone else do it—but he felt more comfortable with a character that didn’t have a high CHA stat everyone relied on.

He didn’t mind hanging out with everyone on Friday nights, even if a few months later Lysithea’s coursework overwhelmed her so she had to drop and Dorothea’s work schedule started getting in the way. Then Mercedes asked if her brother could join and Felix asked Annette if she wanted to join in.

The group shifted a few more times throughout the year but mostly stayed the same and in the end Felix just liked watching Sylvain be interested in something. He’d goof off in class, but he’d spend hours carefully painting figure models with Ignatz or working on plotting out his campaign with Bernadetta.

When he and Sylvain had moved in together, someone on the fencing team told him he’d get sick of spending so much time with him—but it was the opposite. Felix liked spending time with Sylvain every Friday night and his new group of friends with annoying in-jokes ridiculously complex backstories.

“Annette said she might want to try DMing,” Felix said, one night while they cleaned up from hosting a non-official party gathering.

“Why didn’t she say anything to me?” Sylvain asked.

“She doesn’t want to step on your toes.”

“Ah but you love stepping on ‘em,” Sylvain said with a stupid grin. Felix flicked soapy water at him. “That’d be great actually. I _never_ get to play. I’ll text her and let her know I can help her get started—oh she’d love the starter kit and you haven’t played it yet.”

Sylvain wandered off to find his phone, already murmuring out loud what character he wanted to create for himself and Felix watched him, fondly as he spat out an essay long text at Annette.

* * *

**Outfoxed Verse**

_Set Post-Cat Got Your Tongue_

Sylvain pushed the food on his plate around. It wasn’t that it wasn’t appetizing, he’d almost grown kind of used to how bland food in Faerghus was. It was that Glenn was giving him a death look from across the table, while he cut his sausage in an extremely specific way.

“Is your stomach upset again?” Hanna Fraldarius asked.

Glenn’s death glare turned into a normal one as he frowned and jerked his head towards her. “Mom! I’m trying to be intimidating.”

“Ah,” Glenn and Felix’s mother said, and patted his hand patronizingly, “well don’t worry you’ll get there one of these days.”

Glenn muttered something to himself while Ingrid and Rodrigue politely covered laughs. Felix’s was not covered at all or polite. It was a great sound though.

***

It was fucking cold in Sreng. Felix knew what cold was, but there was no humidity whatsoever here, so it was the kind of cold that dried every orifice of your face and made your skin chafe while the wind blistered any skin that managed to escape with any sort of not-red-and-patchy dignity.

Sylvain’s adoptive sister was looking at him in a way that made Felix want to go further into the layers of clothing he had wrapped around his neck, head, and everywhere else. She said something in Srengi and from Sylvain’s raised eyebrow and hissed response, it couldn’t have been good.

“What did she say?” Felix asked, he wasn’t a coward. He was just fucking cold.

“She is surprised I managed to find someone so attractive to bring home,” Sylvain said, clearly lying.

His adoptive sister snorted and said in perfect, halting Fódlan, “No, I said, he looks like a water-bird chick that lost all its furred feathers.”

Sylvain covered his face with his hands and groaned into them, while Felix sunk further beneath his layers.

* * *

**SPN-Lite AU**

_Post-I told that devil to take you_ _back_

Sylvain came back in waves. It was strange at first, because everything felt like a hallucination. Everything felt like the carrot, right before the stick came. No one ever said Hell wasn’t creative.

A wet sponge touched his face, it didn’t turn into acid, just water. The water dripped down skin that felt like skin and not like leather after being tanned into a human Sylvain suit and replaced with himself.

Dark eyelashes weighed heavy over amber eyes filled with concern. There was no way he’d be concerned. Not about Sylvain. Not after all that. Not after everything he’d done to survive down here… there… here…

“If you’re pretending to be Felix this time, that’s a new level of gross,” Sylvain said. “I get that you’re a demon now, but incest crossing the line.”

“Stop talking,” the very good impression of Felix said. Maybe it wasn’t Miklan. He didn’t have the finesse to pull this off. Had to be someone with a lighter hand. The sponge touched his face again, wiping down his skin, feeling cool, and … was that really water?

“Felix loves when I talk,” Sylvain said.

“That’s not even remotely true,” the _extremely_ good impression of Felix muttered, as it swept the sponge over Sylvain’s neck.

“He likes when I do other things with my mouth,” Sylvain said, testing it. The sponge stalled and extremely good impression of Felix stared at him with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment… and something else. “Fuck, you _are_ good.”

Fake Felix sighed, but didn’t reply and continued to wash Sylvain down. He closed his eyes, deciding to pretend this was real to enjoy the next few moments before torture revved back into place. Maybe hell wasn’t that bad sometimes.

**Author's Note:**

> @waffle_fancy on twitter where I occasionally get wildly distracted and post stuff


End file.
